


I. Merano, Italy

by at_the25annualputnamcountyspellingbee



Series: Chess [1]
Category: The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee - Finn/Sheinkin/Reiss
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, This is gonna be angst, this is my take on a Chess AU (like the musical Chess), warning you now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-04-23 12:28:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14332485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/at_the25annualputnamcountyspellingbee/pseuds/at_the25annualputnamcountyspellingbee
Summary: Charlito Tolentino, a famous American chess player, currently holds the title of World Champion, having won last year.  This year, he's up against William Barfée, a previous world champion hailing from Germany.  Both are familiar with and despise each other.  Charlito's manager and second is Olive Ostrovsky, a gentle woman who immigrated from Russia at a young age.  William's manager is the notoriously uptight Marcy Park, former South Korean champion and current coach.  Marigold Coneybear, reporter for the NYT, has brought her chess-obsessed brother Leaf to this year's competition to help her out.Arbitrating this year's competition is Logainne Schwartzandgrubenierre, an unsuccessful chess player who turned to arbitration and is well-known for her absolute neutrality.  She's familiar the antics pulled by these two, as she was on duty during their match in Baguio City two years ago.  This year, the setting for the game is Merano, Italy.Two players compete for the title of World Champion, but unbeknownst to everyone else, the game will spark a massive change unlike anything the world of chess has ever seen.  Love, hate, confusion, and mystery form the perfect storm with chess as the least of their troubles.





	1. What a Scene!  What a Joy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both players have arrived in Merano and prepare for the upcoming press conference and championship game.

The first words out of Chip’s mouth was, “It's cold.”

Olive sighed. “It's not exactly a tropical location, Charlito. It's Italy. They've got the Mediterranean weather going for them.”

“Whatever. Where are we staying at? I have to study up on German chess strategies. Wait. Should I look at Korean masters instead?”

“Why don't you look up clips of William Barfée playing chess? Since that's who you're playing?”

He snapped his fingers. “Duh. Olive, you're great.”

“No, I have common sense. Calm down. You've met him before. You played him in Baguio City two years ago.”

“Right. Two years ago. I don't remember two years ago, Olive! And he beat me!”

“And he'll beat you again with that attitude. Let's let you go study, because you don't whine when you study.”

Chip frowned. “Hey. Rude.”

“You know what's ruder? Almost getting disqualified from the world championship because you got into a kick fight with the other player.”

“Oh, don't you go pinning that on me. That was his fault. He didn't suffer any casualties.”

A cab finally stopped. Olive gave directions and they sat in the back as the car drove. “Ah, yes. The famous blow to the crotch. That earned you a lot of sympathy in the news.”

“It also probably made me infertile,” he muttered. “It hurt.”

“Thank god,” Olive said. “A tiny person with your genetics has the potential to be worse than you already are as a human being.”

“Why do I pay you to be mean to me? Please remind why I hired you.”

She pulled up a list on her phone. “Because you're incapable of managing your personal actions, let alone your schedule. Here, I've got practice questions for the interview tomorrow. I typed your name into google and found the most frequently asked questions about you. We're going to have you rehearse some answers and get you ready for anything they might throw at you.”

Chip sighed and nodded. “Hit me.”

“Alright. Charlito Tolentino, is it true that you're an immigrant?”

He paused. “People still ask that?”

“You've never given a clear answer in your life. That's kind of why we're practicing this.” She looked up from her phone. “You're known for being great at chess and for being ‘hot’, not for your public speaking skills.” With a pat on the head, she added, “Be thankful you're pretty, because that's about all you've got going for you.”

He swatted her hand away. “I can't believe I thought you were nice when I hired you.”

“Answer the question, Charlito. Are you an immigrant?”

“Ugh. Yes, I'm an immigrant. My parents brought me to America the legal way when I was five. I'm a citizen, just not natural born.”

“Very good. Short and sweet. Next question, are you married, and if so, is it to Ms Ostrovsky?”

“Okay, I've heard that before. No, I'm not married or in a relationship, and I have to pay Ms Ostrovsky to stand being around me.”

“The humor is good. It's a great counter to your normal aggressiveness. Keep it up. Let's see… oh.” She frowned.

“What is it?” He leaned over and tried to look at the screen. “C’mon, I'm on a roll.”

“Fine.” She cleared her throat. “Are you gay?”

“Am I what?”

“Breathe. It's a question that someone is inevitably going to ask you. You can either end the rumor and speculation, or you can start a shitstorm of questions. You choose. I don't care if you want to lie to the press. Just stay calm when you answer and they'll accept what you say. For the most part. Be charming, be funny, don't look as pissed off as you do now.”

He rubbed his face and sighed, his face buried in his hands. “Great. What am I gonna say? I don't even know the answer to that.”

“Come up with something good to say before the conference tomorrow. Let's keep going.”

\----------

“You remember how he opens?” Marcy asked.

“I don't know,” William grumbled. “Is it what we have been drilling for the past hour?”

“You hired me to make you a winner, and by God I'm gonna do that.” She took a swig from her water bottle. “Now, I know you've beaten him before, but you need to beat him and get good PR this time. No nut shots. Don't kick at all, actually. He's a bastard, but a sneaky one.”

“I wasn't planning on it. But he cannot start shit either.”

“O juyeo, him-euljusibsio,” she muttered. “You have a press conference in,” she checked her phone, “thirty minutes. Get ready for it.”

“Danke.”


	2. All They Want Is a Show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marigold enlists her brother for help on her latest reporting project.
> 
> Chip is not a good public speaker.
> 
> Will gets a good demonstration of who Olive really is.

“Gimme the dirt, Leaf. I gotta ask some great questions, and I know nothing about these two.” Marigold’s fingers rested on the keyboard expectantly, awaiting information.

Leaf laughed. “Shouldn't you do research before your reporting trips?”

“I brought you here as a birthday present and because you know chess pretty damn well. I know how intensely you follow the champions. What do you know about,” she glanced at her screen, “Charlito Tolentino and William Barfee?”

“First of all, there's an accent. Barfée. He's kinda uptight about that.” He tapped his fingers on the tabletop. “There's the normal rumors about something between Charlitp and his manager, Olive Ostrovsky, but everyone’s going to be asking that. Both players hate each other a lot. When they played each other in Baguio City two years ago, they got into a kick fight. Most people remember it as the match where Charlito lost the championship and his ability to have kids.”

Marigold winced. “Yikes. Barfee fights dirty?”

“Not really.” Leaf shrugged. “By most accounts it was an accident. But there had to have a special table made so they couldn't kick each other. Umm… I think that's all I've got.”

“Didn't you say something about his sexuality earlier? Isn't there some speculation about that?”

He sighed. “I don't know. There's a lot of talk, but there's not much evidence.” Leaf shrugged. “He's cute.”

“Oh, Leaf.” She patted his hand. “You're the only person I know who’s celebrity crush is a chess player. You've got a strange taste in men.”

“Have you seen him? He's hot!”

“Well, don't get all freaked out when you see him at the press conference. We've got to leave in eight minutes to get there on time. So, I gotta get cracking on these questions.” With that, she started typing, fingers flying across the keyboard.

\--------------

“MISTER Tolentino!”

“Hey, question over here!”

“Mister Barfee, could we ask a few questions?”

William sighed. “Barfée. There's an accent.” He shot Chip a dark look when he let out a snort of laughter.

“Hell, it's a press conference! Go for it.” Chip leaned back in his seat and crossed his ankles under the table. He felt uncomfortable sitting so close to Will, but he supposed it was probably just as close across a chessboard. And this time, it'd be pretty damn hard for him to get kicked in the crotch.

A shorter man with a tweed jacket and a camera over his shoulder got the first question. “Mister Tolentino-”

“Call me Chip, it's easier.”

“Chip. You've been quite vague when people have brought the topic up before. Did you emigrate to the US?”

He laughed. “Called it. Yeah, I was brought here when I was five. I have all my papers. Fully legal. Don't think I'd be playing chess if I wasn't.”

“Mister Barfee! Question. Do you still hold a grudge against Chip for the fight two years ago?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Why would I have a grudge? I didn't lose anything.” There were a few “oohs” from the crowd. 

Chip spluttered some garbled insult and tapped his foot against the ground, frustrated. “Isn't there supposed to be a moderator at press conferences? Why don't we get a moderator?”

“If you need a babysitter to make certain you behave, that is fine. I'm sure one can be found.” He looked over at Chip, who was positively fuming.

“I'll be fine. Continue.” He leaned close to Will and whispered, “Watch your tone, you German bastard. You don't need another fight going on record.”

“Neither do you.”

Chip sighed and sat up. “Right, uh, next question?” Olive set a hand on his shoulder in warning, as in “I will kill you if you make a scene”.

Marigold pushed her way to the front and Chip immediately leaned forward, intrigued. “Gentlemen, any reason you've stayed single these past few years? Many chess fans have noticed that neither of you have a committed partner.”

“I've never met someone that I've found worth committing to, though I feel like that may change in the near future,” Chip said. Wow, that reporter was cute. Maybe this conference was worth it.

Realizing he, too, was supposed to answer, Will reluctantly said, “I've not bothered looking before.”

Marigold scribbled down notes, giving a different reporter room to ask a question. The new woman asked, “Chip, fans are eager for the truth.” 

His gut sank and he immediately knew what she was going to ask. He didn't have an answer. What was he going to say? Fuck, fuck, fuck! Damn press. Damn reporters. He didn't want to lie, not really, because that could be bad if the truth got out, but he wasn't about to tell the world that yeah, he had slept with a guy (experimentally!) a few years back and was still uncertain of how he felt about it.

“Are you gay?”

It was probably like watching a goddamn deer in headlights. It's what it felt like to him. He just stared at the reporter for a second, trying desperately to find a suitable answer that didn't make him a liar or a bad guy but didn't send out the wrong image and oh fuck he couldn't do this. Chip shove his chair back, not out of anger but of fear, and bolted from the room, pushing past Olive. A small part of him knew he was making things so much worse but he couldn't break the mental freeze he was in to stop himself from running away.

Back in the conference room, everyone fell deathly silent. Olive startled everyone by taking Chip’s seat but, really, what other choice was there? She leaned toward the microphone. “Ladies and-” Feedback squeal made her pause. She hesitantly leaned back a tad and tried again. “Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to apologize on behalf of my client. He, uh…” She glanced off in the direction he had escaped. “He's not a people person and is a man of action, apparently, not words. Again, my apologies.” She glanced at Barfée’s manager, who didn't seem to be paying any particular attention to the happenings.

“End of press conference,” Will said, with a hesitant smile at Olive. Once the mob of reporters began to leave, Olive hurried out. Wherever Chip had gone didn't matter. He was (hopefully) competent enough to return to the hotel at the end of his fit.

Will stood, preparing to leave the empty room. 

“See?” Marcy said. “Victory without harming your image. He can harm his own damn image.”

“How does a woman like that work for a man like him?” He wondered aloud.

Marcy rolled her eyes and took a swig from her water bottle. “Money works miracles, Barf. Don't get any romantic ideas. Once a person’s involved in the game, you can't separate them from it.”

“Augh, I don't have those ideas. I simply think she's…” He paused to find the right word. “Remarkable.”

“Whatever. Let's get rolling. You need to practice.”


	3. There's a Time and There's a Place!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chip gets scolded for his behavior.

“What kind of stunt did you think you would pull?” Olive asked. “What the hell were you thinking? Were you thinking?”

“I panicked, okay? I know what I did but I couldn't exactly stop myself.” He paused. “How bad is it?”

She sighed. “Come out of the bathroom first. This is ridiculous. How old are you, eight?”

The lock clicked and Chip opened the door. “No, if I were eight I would've started a fist fight. How bad are the reports?”

“Let's just say that people think you're aggressively hiding in the closet. So, about half the country doesn't like you just because of that. The good news is that your fan base is so small that it didn't do anything to it. Chess doesn't make you famous unless you're Bobby Fischer.”

“Motherfucker,” he muttered.

“You messed up. Big time. You're not going to say anything else to the press while we're here in Merano. Understood?”

“I didn't think you could be that much of a hardass. Alright, fine.” Chip laid down on the couch. “If Barf says a word about it-”

“Do NOT give him what he wants. He's looking for a reaction, and you're great at giving those. Play chess. Nothing else.” After she made sure he had acknowledged that, she asked, “Why the bathroom?”

“I had to throw up,” he admitted. “Anxiety makes me nauseous.”

Olive sighed. “Okay, that would've been nice to know beforehand. You throw up when you get nervous?”

“Anxious. There's a difference. I'm going to go study.” He rolled off the couch and walked over to the desk. Olive left him alone to read over strategy books and think about tomorrow’s matches.


	4. Something Unpleasant Going On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chip fucks shit up. Olive has to fix it. Marcy and Will are somewhat cooperative. 
> 
> *Chapter Edited 7/20*

“You know what? Fuck you!” Chip shoved the table forward and stormed off, leaving behind an exasperated manager, a furious opponent, and a frantic arbiter.

“Miss Schwartzandgrubenierre,” Olive said, “is there a way for him to not get eliminated from the competition?”

“Of course, but both players would have to come to an agreement. I can give you two days to work it out, but I really can't delay game play any longer. I need a signed agreement from both agreeing to refrain from kicking, hitting, aggressively setting down pieces, name calling… whatever else the players need to come to an agreement.” She smiled wearily at Olive. “I'm afraid you know the drill, Miss Ostrovsky. As for this match, I can't give Barfée the victory. Charlito won't lose, but it extends gameplay.”

“Right,” she sighed. “Thank you again. I really don't know what I'd do without you arbitrating these games.”

“It's no problem. I get paid for this. A lot. Because no one else wants to deal with these two opposing each other.” Logainne winced. “Apologies. That was uncalled for. Remember, agreement signed by both of them with all the normal terms and conditions. Either one violates them, and they forfeit the championship.”

“Got it.” She approached Marcy. “Miss Park? Could I speak with you for a moment?”

“Trying to save your player’s hide?” Marcy asked. “He's handling this rivalry poorly. Maybe you should let him face the consequences of this.”

“As awful as he is, he's my source of income. I'm covering him solely because of that. Is there any chance of a supervised meeting to hash out an agreement?”

Marcy rolled her eyes and took a sip from her water bottle. “Yeah, sure. There's a little mountaintop restaurant, a few miles from here. You know?”

Olive nodded. “Would tonight work? I'd rather this done as soon as possible.”

“Eight o’ clock. I'll be there with my player. Yours better show.” She turned on her heel and left.

“He will,” Olive said hopelessly, knowing that the other woman hadn't heard her. “I hope.”

\-------

“I'll meet you there,” Chip promised.

Olive didn't believe him. He had a nasty habit of bailing and running out on responsibilities. “This is your career at stake,” she warned. “This meeting is your last chance to reconcile.”

“I'll be there. Really. Eight at that restaurant place. I'll be there.”

She sighed and hung up. As much as she wanted to believe that he would actually follow through, his track record indicated that he wouldn't show. Still, Olive could hope for improvement.

\-------

Needless to say, it was awkward. All four shared a table. Olive sat across from Barfée and next to Chip. The players glared at each other until Olive elbowed Chip in the ribs. “You're an adult,” she chided. “Act like it.”

“Yeah, yeah. I promise I won't walk out on a game anymore if he doesn't spew insults across the board. How's that for a compromise, huh?”

Marcy rolled her eyes and took a sip from her ever present water bottle. “Whatever it takes to get this hell meeting over with. How's this sound? Both of you stop being dicks for a week and finish the goddamn game.”

“I have no problem with that,” said Barfée. “The sooner this is finished, the sooner this garbage man goes away.”

“Did you ever consider the fact that your awful personality is the reason why you can't find love? Because you are a spectacularly terrible person.”

“There's no room for you to talk. You can't get a woman or a man.”

Chip froze. “Shut the fuck up.”

“About what? I left it vague on purpose. After all, you've been just as unclear about your personal preferences-”

“Both of you need to close your mouths.” Olive’s tone was steady, though she was just about ready to kill both of them. “If there is going to be any compromise made tonight, you two can't talk to each other. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” Will mumbled. Chip scoffed, stood up, and left the table. Olive resisted the temptation to chase after him.

“Now,” she said, “Miss Park. We need an agreement with all terms and conditions written out for the players to sign. It's apparent that the players can't handle the responsibility of contributing to those conditions, so I'm afraid we'll have to write them ourselves.”

“I'll make it simple.” She held up three fingers. “One: your player does not talk to mine except for formalities. Good morning, good afternoon, good evening, good match, congratulations. That's it. My player will follow suit. Two: if either player disturbs game play, i.e. walking off, he will be eliminated from the competition and the remaining contestant will be thereby awarded the title of world champion. Three: players cannot use the press to attack each other.”

Olive nodded. “Get that in writing and he’ll sign it.”

Marcy nodded and stood up. “Great. That's settled. I'm going to get a drink. We’ll do signing tomorrow.” She walked off in the direction of the bar, leaving Olive and William alone. 

They were silent for a few minutes, until Will finally said, “I'd like to apologize for my behavior today.”

Olive shook her head. “You don't have to. I work with Chip. I know how awful he can be. It's a rivalry, I get it.”

“I got carried away. I shouldn't have said any of those things about him.”

“He says things that are a lot worse. He's not really that hurt by anything said about him. Chip's just… over dramatic.”

“If you dislike him so much, why work for him?”

She exhaled heavily through her nose. “I don't dislike him. Not really. Besides, it pays well. I'm sure you're familiar with how much coaches cost.”

“You coach? I thought you were just-” He stopped, staring at Olive. “Forgive me.”

“It's fine. I'm babysitter and coach. Not quite as notorious as Miss Park, but I pride myself at my chess skills.”

“You handled the walkout wonderfully yesterday.” He rested his chin in his hand, looking at her thoughtfully. “For such a difficult situation, you ended it well.”

Olive was starting to notice how attractive he was. The more she looked at him, the more she saw how well his facial features looked together and really, how handsome he was in general. “It's routine. He makes a mess, I clean it up. That's what tonight is all about. Cleaning up another one of Chip’s messes.” She leaned closer to him. Screw Chip and his whiny ass. William was nice and awkward and genuine. Will apologized. Chip didn't.

“A shame. Surely a woman with your skill has better uses of her time available.” He blushed a little as he gave the compliment.

“I'm new to all this, really. I feel like I'm working three jobs for him. I get paid for it, so I don't really mind.” She shrugged. “I have my hobbies. I'm content with my life. Mostly.” Except for the part where she didn't have a significant other. Olive had always tried to find someone that she could work well with to make sure she didn't end up like her parents. She wanted desperately to succeed where they had failed. When she was starting college, she would've been shocked to know that she'd still be single at thirty. Her goal had been to get married and start a family. She loved kids. Whether they were her own or adopted didn't matter in her fantasy. She liked having a career, but she wanted a family. So of course she was desperate to find love, because she was scared about losing that chance. “But that's more personal than career,” she said.

“I feel we'd be better off dealing with personal lives,” Will said. “After all, we're technically opponents in our work.”

She wasn't sure if he was flirting, but she didn't care. It wasn't like rejection would be any different than normal. “I'm sure you know the drill. Dating, relationships, family. Nothing I'm involved in, unfortunately.”

“Oh?” He frowned, but his eyes didn't quite follow suit. It looked like he was trying to disguise whatever he was feeling. “You're single?”

“Yes,” she sighed. “I look and look and look, but I'm never successful. You know, rejection.”

“I've never been interested in someone before,” he said. He quickly added, “Before tonight.”

Woo! Go Olive! She had a chance. Sure, it was with her client’s opponent, but she didn't care at this point. He was cute, smart, and nice. She was going for it. “Really?”

“Yes, uh,” he flushed some more. “It's rather abrupt, and I know the timing is poor with the competition and such, but you're a lovely woman, Miss Ostrovsky. I was caught off guard by the fact that you're single. With such beauty and intellect, I don't understand how you are.”

Oh. Now she was blushing. She felt a bubble of excitement in her chest. This man seemed to understand her at least somewhat and was so kind. And he was flustered about complimenting her! “You're sweet,” she said, fanning her face with her hand. “You seem like a nice guy, William.”

“It's not difficult to reflect kindness given. Most of my dealings are with people much less pleasant than you. It's a nice break.”

Why was she feeling like this? They barely knew each other, yet in their time alone they seemed perfect for each other. “You've matured since the Philippines. I hardly remember that week, but I don't remember you being quite a gentleman.”

“Ah, I was not quite prepared to handle myself under such stress. Even still I have some issues, though I try not to instigate such situations myself.”

“Working to improve yourself. Fantastic. Better than most men, most people, really, that I know.” Was it the atmosphere? The small restaurant? The pleasant aroma of food coming from the kitchen? The lighting? Her own desperation? Maybe it was her loneliness driving her right now.

“Thank you.” They looked at each other across the table, both blushing. Ever the go-getter, Olive leaned closer to him. They hesitantly kissed, and Olive instinctively placed a hand on the back of Will’s neck. They looked at each other and smiled.

“What the HELL is going on here?”

Both were startled. Chip had returned to the meeting at the perfect moment. He looked between the two, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“How long has this been going on?”

Will checked his watch. “About one and a half minutes.”

Chip fumed. “Olive-” he began, before he was cut off.

“Let's go back to the hotel room and talk.”

“Let's talk right here! Why would you kiss the guy who absolutely hates me? I employ you and this is what I get?”

“I'm not starting this in a public place.”

“But you're fine starting that in a public place!” Chip said, gestured between the two of them. “No, really. I want to know why you’re kissing him. Come on. I want an explanation.”

Olive stared at him silently. He glared back at her. A few seconds later he swore loudly and stormed out of the restaurant. She turned to Will. “I have to go. I just need to leave and see whether or not it's worth keeping my job.” She hurried off, leaving Will alone at the table. He sighed and leaned back in his seat.

Behind him, Marcy said, “What did I say about romance?”

He jumped. “Warnings, please!”

Marcy sat down. “This agreement needs to be signed as soon as possible or you're going to be a part of a nice big scandal. That was a bad move. If you were that into her, you should've kept it a secretive thing and waited.”

“It wasn't my intention to kiss her. It just happened.”

“Whatever happened, you fucked up. Now let's get back to the hotel. I'm gonna make you practice to make up for the shit you've stirred up.”


	5. Who'd Ever Think It?  Such a Squalid Little Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olive is sick of Chip’s antics and quits. Both of them expect to wallow in their misery, but possible love leaves them feeling just a little bit hopeful.

Olive slammed the hotel door behind her. Chip jolted up from the couch. He leapt to his feet and confronted her.

“What the HELL were you doing?”

“Charlito.” She looked him in the eye. “I'm a grown woman. I can do whatever I want, and I don't have my personal life under contract. So kindly back off.”

Her boldness threw him off. None of this made sense. Why was she being such a bitch all of a sudden? “Can't- well- I- why him? He's an asshole and he's my fucking competition! You work for me!”

“He's a better man than you're ever going to be, Chip!” She took a step forward, bringing them nose to nose. “Get out of my way.”

“And what if I don't?” He was defensive now, tense and fidgety. “Huh? What if I stay right here?”

Out of all the things he thought Olive would do, shoving him wasn't one of them. Chip didn't think she had the guts to do it. She was a mild mannered woman. He was taller and presumably stronger, and he was angry. Then he was pushed back. He stumbled, trying desperately to keep his balance while also turning to see what she was doing. That gave Olive just enough time to move past him. Once she was in the bedroom area, she grabbed her suitcase and swung it up. “Get any closer to me and I'll hit you.”

“Wha-?”

“I quit, Chip. Get that? Go find a new manager slash secretary slash babysitter. One that'll put up with your shit, because I'm sick of it.”

He glared at her but didn't dare get closer. “So that's it, huh? You find a guy and you're gone?”

“It-” Angry tears welled in her eyes. “It isn't all that! I'm just finally able to stand up to the bullshit you put me through! I work for you from the second I wake up to the second I fall asleep, and this is the thanks I get from you? It's thanks to me you're even in this competition anymore, or have you forgotten already? So it doesn't matter if you sign that agreement or not, because I'm not contractually obligated to do shit for you anymore.” She slammed the suitcase down on the bed and pulled a drawer open. Working quickly, she packed everything she had in the hotel room. When she looked up, Chip was gone. God knew what he was doing, but whatever it was, she didn't want to know. With her possessions gathered, she left the hotel room, leaving her key on the table.

\-----------

He wanted to leave the hotel quietly. That was difficult when a mob of reporters sat outside the hotel door, awaiting him.

“Mister Tolentino, care to comment on-”

“Is your manager’s affair with your opponent new or-”

“Have you talked to either party since-”

“Fuck OFF!” Chip shouted, shoving his way past the mob. “Don't talk to me! Leave me alone, fuck off!” He escaped the group and found his way to a small, secluded little restaurant. It was late, far past any sensible meal time. He practically had the place to himself. All he wanted though, was something alcoholic and some time alone.

He got the alcohol, sure, but not much quiet time.

“What's a big name chess star doing in a place like this?” A woman asked.

Chip looked up. Oh! The hot reporter from the press conference! Despite all of the shit that had just gone down, he managed a grin. “Nothing important,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

The woman took a seat across from him. “Nothing important,” she repeated. “Believe me, Chip, anything you do is important in the world of news. But,” she shrugged, “I'm not out hunting for news. Consider yourself lucky.”

“I started thinking I was lucky the second I saw you,” Chip said. “But if you're not here for news, then what are you out here for?”

“Fun,” she said. “My brother wanted to stay in tonight. I wanted to explore. He's disappointed by the lack of a gay scene here in Merano.”

“You brought your brother with you to a chess championship? What, does he do reporting too, or…?”

She shook her head. “Amateur player. He's obsessed with chess. It's my early birthday gift to him. But enough about him… Are you sure there's nothing bringing you out here tonight? Shouldn't you be negotiating your way back into the game?”

He grunted and rolled his eyes. “That's through for today. Everything's being patched up tomorrow. I'm out here to enjoy myself, maybe meet a cute girl. I think I've done well so far.”

“Oh, we've got a flirt here, haven't we? I guess this is confirmation you're straight, then?” She giggled when he rolled his eyes. “I'm teasing. You're cute, I'll admit.”

“Can I buy you a drink? Or just get a name?”

“Marigold Coneybear. And sure. One of whatever you're drinking.” She watched as he summoned a waiter and ordered her a drink. “You're better one-on-one than with a crowd,” she noted.

“Ah, that's just because I'm good with pretty women.” He winked.

“You're forward. Got guts.” Her drink arrived and she took a sip. “Fan of the frilly drinks, aren't you?”

“I'm a fan of stuff that tastes good,” Chip grumbled, taking a drink. “I just lost my manager, gimme a break.”

“I'll resist my journalist habits this one time, just because you're cute.” Marigold gave him a once-over. “Not bad.” She took another sip. “I'm curious. Did the fight in the Philippines actually make you infertile?”

Chip sighed and set his glass down. “I haven't bothered finding out. I'm not interested in having kids and it's not like I have a girlfriend that I'm worried about knocking up.”

“Okay.” They fell silent for a few minutes, glancing at each other across the table. Finally, she asked, “Is the gay thing a touchy subject? I’ve never seen someone leave an interview like that.”

He set his glass down. Quietly, he said, “I’m not gay.”

“Yeah, I figured,” she said, gesturing at the two of them. “But you didn’t even try denying it. You walked out.”

“I don’t like talking about it. Not gay. End of story.” He stared at the table cloth, silently wondering if it was worth getting drunk that night. There wasn’t any matches if there was negotiations. He just had to sign that agreement, right? If Olive had finished it. Well, that didn’t matter anymore. Olive wasn’t working for him anymore. He signaled for a waiter. “Sorry, Miss Coneybear. I should get going.”

“No problem. I understand, you’re a busy guy.”

Chip tapped his fingers on the table as they waited for the check. “Any chance I could… see you again sometime?”

“A date?”

“Yeah. A date.” He didn’t sound confident about it. But he was getting some strong feelings for this woman. “I could give you my number…” A thought popped into his head. “As long as none of this is for a news story. I’m a little sick of my entire life being on display.”

“You’ve got my word,” Marigold said. “Not a news story.” She pulled out a pad of paper and a pen and slid them over to him. He felt like a teenager as he scribbled his number down. His enthusiasm felt embarrassing, but it didn’t take much to swing his emotions from low to high. The waiter came back with the check finally. Chip paid and stood, ready to leave.

“Don’t leave me hanging,” he said with a small grin.

“I don’t intend to,” she said. She tore the sheet of paper off cleanly and folded it neatly. After she tucked it away in her wallet, she looked up at him as he headed for the door. “Chip?”

He stopped and turned. “Yeah?”

“Call me Marigold. ‘Miss Coneybear’ makes me feel ancient.”

“Got it.” He smiled. “I’ll see you, Marigold.” With that, he pushed the door open and left, feeling, overall, pretty alright.

————

“I quit my job. I just quit my job. I quit my job. I looked right into his eyes and told him I wouldn’t work for him anymore. I don’t work for Chip anymore.” Olive stopped pacing. “I’m unemployed. I don’t have a salary anymore.”

After leaving Chip behind, Olive had found herself a room in a different hotel. She paced the length of her room as she thought of ways to tell Ms. Park that she wasn’t representing Chip anymore. She had starting with that, at least. The conversation with herself had devolved into convincing herself that she had done the right thing, which was proving difficult.

“I’m going to have to find a new client, or…” Or else she’d be heading home to Virginia, back being a high school secretary. She considered her savings account. Maybe she could go back to college and get her teaching license. Elementary aged, perhaps. The younger, the better. She could handle whiny children. Whiny adults were a different story.

With a sigh, she found her phone and dialed the other coach’s number. Her fingers dig into her skin as the phone rang. Seconds felt like hours as the other line rang. The noise was deafening.

“Who is this?” The woman on the other end of the call asked.

“Olive Ostrovsky. I was calling to let you know that I am no longer working for Charlito Tolentino. If you want to reach him, you’ll need to contact him directly.”

“Alright.”

There was a second of silence before Olive realized that she was done speaking. “Oh! Sorry. That’s everything. Uh, thank you for your time.”

“Hold on a second.” The voice on the other end grew muffled, and Olive could hear a second, deeper voice. “If you’re no longer professionally associated with Mr Tolentino, my client would be interested in a private meeting with you.”

“Will- he would?” Her heart skipped a beat.

“Lunch tomorrow. Noon. Same place as we met earlier tonight.” Marcy’s voice was emotionless to the point of monotonous.

“Thank you! I’ll be there.”

She heard Marcy hang up. Her thoughts fixated on William. Out of everyone in this godforsaken hellscape of a game, he had been nice to her as a person, not just as a worn-out manager or whatever people considered her. He had been part of the reason she had quit her job. It was a huge risk inspired by someone she barely knew, but it somehow felt right. She was desperate for love, sure, but her gut told her she was going in the right direction.

Noon tomorrow. She could do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. It’s copper. I know I haven’t been updated much of anything (all fics & askblog) for a while. School has severely sapped my willpower and I’ve had a lot of rough weeks.
> 
> That being said, I got on here and saw a really nice comment someone left for me and i went and finished this chapter. You guys are great and I’m so glad that some people enjoy what I write. I don’t want to leave everything unfinished, so don’t worry about these. It may take a while, but I’ll get them done.
> 
> Y’all are great!


	6. But the Fool’s Never Learn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olive and Will go on a date. Chip gets a taste of life without a manager for the first time. Leaf gets a little jealous about who his sister isn’t flirting with.

11:55. She was early. Five extra minutes to worry about the last few days of her life. Olive felt a twinge of pain as she took in her surroundings. This is where things went downhill. This is where she had jumped on her impulses and given up her sense of loyalty to her (former) employer. This was where she had, essentially, given up chess. Was it for the best? She thought she was good at chess, but she hated public speaking and attention and competition. She hadn’t made it far as a player because she didn’t have the emotional fortitude to be a worthy competition.

“Miss Ostrovsky?”

She practically jumped out of her skin. Okay, she didn’t really have the emotional fortitude to be a human being.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Olive turned in her seat. William stood behind her, holding a handful of flowers. She smiled warmly, happy to see the one person that was actually glad to be around her. “Don’t worry about it.”

He offered her the flowers. “I got these for uh, for you. As a gift.” His hand shook as he held them out. Olive took them shyly and examined them as he sat down. “It’s a nice day,” he said, trying to start a conversation.

“The weather’s nice.” She paused, considering whether or not she should go for a clever response. “But I feel like surroundings make a person's day great, and I think I’ve got the perfect company for a day like today.”

Good lord, she didn’t think someone could turn red so quickly. William coughed and turned his focus onto the table arrangement. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I’m bad with emotional words. That was sweet, I just… can’t respond.”

She couldn’t help smiling. She found that response so heartwarming for some reason. It was so genuine, so unlike anything she had ever been used to. It was nice.

“So… you quit for good?”

“Yes.” She sighed. “It wasn’t the best idea I’ve had, but there’s not much I can do now. I’m just trying to figure out where I’m going after this.”

“Are you still going to watch the match? It should be… interesting.” He smiled uncertainly. 

“I think I’ve had my fill of chess. And it’s probably best if Chip and I avoid each other.”

His whole demeanor changed into something… protective? “Did he hurt you?” Will asked in a hushed tone.

“No, no!” She shook her head. “No, it wasn’t anything violent. My resignation just wasn't as calm and quiet as I hoped it would be. I left and found a new hotel to stay at. I don’t know where he went, but knowing him I’m sure it’s going to end up in the tabloids.”

“I’m glad you’re safe. I’m worried about you.”

“It’s nothing, really.” She waved dismissively. “I worked with Chip for a few years. I know when he’s angry and when he’s not. If anything, he was getting defensive. I think it’s hard for him to believe that compared to him, you’re a saint.”

“Oh, I, uh, I don’t think I would stray that far. I’m hardly much better than he is.” He stared down at the tablecloth. “I doubt you’ve forgotten the Philippines.”

“I don’t think anyone could forget the Philippines. I had to put up with a lot of complaining on the flight back home.” Olive shook her head. “I don’t remember much besides that.”

“Intentionally forgot, perhaps,” William offered.

Olive laughed. “Maybe,” she admitted. “Though I would’ve rather forgotten about pretty much anything Chip said that week instead of meeting you for the first time.”

“Oh, it was nothing special.” He shrugged. “You were kind, I wasn’t, and Tolentino lost more than the chess championship. Really, it’s better you don’t remember. You’d probably be less fond of me.”

“Who ever said I was fond of you?” She teased.

He flushed. “I never meant to imply-“

“I’m teasing, William.” She smiled warmly at him. “I think fond is accurate enough.” 

He relaxed in his seat. “Oh. Joking. I think I’m fond of you too, Miss… could I call you Olive?”

“Yes!” Whoops. Dial down the desperation, Olive. She tucked some hair behind her ear. “I mean, yes, that’s fine.”

He grinned. “Wonderful.”

A waiter approached and took their orders, then left them in silence.

————

The phone rang. Chip blinked and sat up, glancing over at the clock to see what time it was. Shit, was it really noon? He heard the phone ring again and scrambled out of bed. “Hello?” He said, picking the receiver up.

“Marcy Park. Barfee’s manager. I have a contract drawn up if you’d like to read it.”

“Uh…” Why was she asking him to do that? Wasn’t that- Oh. Right. He didn’t have Olive anymore. “Yeah. Where?”

“Conference room. Your hotel. Two o’clock.”

“Okay. I’ll be there.”

The phone went dead. He set the phone back down and sat back on the bed. God, one day without her and he was sleeping late, struggling to remember responsibilities, and feeling like a complete disaster. It was like high school all over again.

He grudgingly headed to the shower, supposing that he should look presentable to his opponent’s manager. No use getting any worse of a name for himself.

Once he was showered and dressed, he found his phone. There was a single notification.

[??] It’s Marigold. I’d love to meet up with you again while we’re here, but I think it would qualify as a conflict of interest. But if you want to hit me up back in the states… I wouldn’t be opposed to a date.

Maybe something was going his way. He added her as “hot reporter lady” and turned his phone off. The most important thing right now was getting something to eat because he was starving. Hopefully there was a McDonalds or something nearby because he was craving some cheap, greasy comfort food.

————

“So, Leaf, you’re never gonna guess who I met in person last night.”

Leaf pulled a shirt on and looked up at her. “Who?” She smirked and his eyes went huge. “You met Chip?! How?”

“Right place at the right time, I guess.” She shrugged and put in an earring. “He was out at a bar, I managed to be at the right one. I also might’ve gotten his number.”

“He flirted with you?” He sighed. “You’re so lucky. I wish hot chess players flirted with me.”

She put in the other earring and looked back at him. “Congratulations on finding a group of words that have never been said in that order. You’re the weirdest guy I know.”

He frowned. “What? He’s hot, he’s famous, he plays chess, and he’s hot! I’m jealous.”

“If he’s true to his word and goes out with me once the competition’s over, you’ll get plenty of chances to meet him.” With a grin, she added, “I mean, it’s a shame for you that he’s straight, but it’s good for me.”

“Whatever. Ugh, I can’t believe there’s a full day before matches continue. It’s so boring when there’s nothing going on.”

————

“Well, it’s been a wonderful time out, really, but I should be getting back to Miss Park. She’ll probably want me running drills to prepare for tomorrow.”

Olive stood. “I understand. Thank you for the invitation.”

Will cautiously took her hand. “May I walk you outside?”

“Of course.” She was absolutely beaming as they left the restaurant, bashfully holding hands like a couple of teenagers. Once they were out on the sidewalk, she turned to him. “I know that last time, it wasn’t under the best of circumstances, but…” She couldn’t do it. He was looking at her so expectantly, she didn’t have the nerve to finish her sentence.

“... Are you asking for a kiss goodbye?” Will asked hesitantly. When she nodded, he smiled and gave her a quick peck on the lips. “I should get going,” he whispered.

“Okay. Goodbye.”

Neither of them moved, still awkwardly close to each other. Will leaned back in and kissed her again, his nerves keeping his movements slow and soft. One hand found its place on her waist. The other hesitantly rested on her neck.

They finally parted. Olive took a deep breath. “You should get going,” she said, her forehead resting against his cheek. “Besides, the longer we stay out here like this, the more likely we are to be plastered across the news tomorrow.”

“Agreed,” he whispered. “I’ll see you soon. When I can.”

“I can’t wait.” She gave him one last peck on the cheek and walked away.


	7. He’s Expecting Us to be Impressed With What He’s Done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s the final match, and tensions are high. Who will be this year’s World Champion?

Final match. He could do this. As he stepped out into the arena, Will smiled nervously at the cameras. Nothing could normally shake him, but Tolentino was a world champion for a reason. That reason may have had to do with Will’s absence at the championship last year (an unfortunate allergy attack - symptoms started showing up during a tie-breaking match earlier on in the season, disqualifying him completely), but he was still a competitor. They were tied, Tolentino somehow managing to catch up in the day after the agreement was settled. This game would decide who took the title.

Chip was nervous. He was about to puke from the nerves cramping his stomach. After his performance yesterday, expectations were high. He kept telling himself that he could beat this goddamn German and go home after today. He just had to beat the guy that had crushed him two years ago. Resentment flared up but was quickly buried by his anxiety and dwindling self control.

(In the crowd, Olive tried to hide herself. Even if she wanted to be seen by a certain someone, there was a person that she wanted to avoid. She had her small knitting bag with her. She had taken up the habit in her secretary years to pass the time, and working with Chip had turned it into a stress reliever. If she was going to be an observer only in this game, then she wanted to do something productive. She had settled on making William and his manager scarves. Making Miss Park something was a bold move for her, but she wanted to make a good impression. Besides, she knew that Northern Europe was chilly in the winter, so it couldn’t hurt to give them both something warm.)

Will looked out into the audience. Though it was relatively well-attended, it was still just a chess match. Besides reporters from both competing countries and the hosting country, it was diehard fans. That made it easy for him to spot Olive. _Win or lose this, it doesn’t change things with her_ , he reminded himself. However awkward he felt around her, her presence made this all the more easier.

Oh, god, there was Marigold. Right in the front row. Next to her was a similar looking redhead with freckles who he assumed was her brother. Win or lose, he was going back to America and so was she. He knew he had to win, but for a second he let himself linger on Marigold. _She looks nice today. Wow, she’s hot with her hair up._ Chip felt himself falling out of focus and shook his attention off of her. He had to win this. He didn’t have a choice.

(“Did you see that?” Leaf whispered to his sister, excited. “He looked right at you! He looked right at you!”

“I know,” she said patiently. “I was the one making eye contact.”

“This is so cool,” he said, grinning. “My sister’s got the attention of a star chess player!”

Marigold shrugged. “Cool’s not the word I would use, but yeah, it’s something.”)

Will stood by his chair and waited impatiently for Chip to reach the table. It wasn’t that he particularly disliked playing Chip. He was a strong opponent in his own right when he was focused. It was Chip’s personality that bothered him. Chip was flashy and aggressive, and he took the game far too personally. Will knew that he wasn’t the best about staying calm, but it was Chip’s goal to get his opponents riled up so they couldn’t play properly. The sooner they finished, the better, as far as he was concerned.

Chip rushed to reach the table. He wasn’t too happy to see Barfee’s face this early, but it was the last time they’d have to do this for at least a year. As they shook hands, Chip winced at Will’s sweaty hand. There were many things he didn’t like about Barfee, and somehow Will’s constantly sweaty hands wasn’t the biggest problem he had. Will had no sense of humor. He didn’t take jokes well, and his idea of a joke was hitting Chip right where it hurt: his sexuality. Will was also impossible to rattle. Nothings out the game phased or frustrated him. As a guy who made competition his life, it killed Chip. He started going for personal attacks to get a reaction out of the guy, and so far it had proved the only thing that worked. And Will had stolen his manager, which was incredibly infuriating. Chip wiped his hand on his pants and sat down, ready to be done with this guy.

(“ _Siegen. Geim-eseoigisibsio. Vencer al bastardo_ ,” Marcy muttered under her breath. She never had total faith in anyone she had coached before, but in her year of working with William, she had been impressed with his complete dedication to the game. Before she had found out about his romantic idealizations with that American coach, she would’ve declared a ninety nine percent chance of William winning. Now, though, her worry was that his concentration would dwindle. That was the one thing out of her control. Love. She took another sip from her water bottle and returned to wishing him luck in foreign languages.)

It was Will’s turn first. He slid a piece forward, running the few dozen moves Chip would possibly use next through his head to keep himself in the game. There were thousands of possibilities, but Chip was startlingly predictable when it came to the beginning of the match. That’s why he knew something weird was going on when Chip moved unexpectedly. He watched Chip push a pawn forward one space on the far right side of the board. Chip was either trying something new (unlikely - with no coach, it was doubtful he would have the courage) or he wasn’t thinking about the game. Will kept his mind on the game, watching Chip’s move with decided interest. _This is going to be a fascinating game._

Chip was in a panic. He hadn’t been thinking when he moved that first piece. He anxiously watched Will take his turn and assessed the damage. His career had, so far, been precariously balanced on several self-developed strategies intended to demolish the opponent with as few holes as possible. He swapped them at random to lessen the chance of someone finding the pattern, and he improved on them constantly so that no two games were ever the same. But that, that move hadn’t been strategic. The instant he thought about his slip-up, his mind returned to the topic of his distraction: Marigold Coneybear.

(Olive looked up at the screen. She saw the strange expression on Chip’s face and immediately knew what was happening. Spending too much time with Chip had given her a lot of knowledge about how he worked. He was an expressive guy by nature, and Olive had the misfortune of knowing what he looked like when he was turned on. He was obviously distracted. This was going to be interesting.)

Will noticed an odd gleam in Chip’s eyes, but ignored it in favor of moving his piece. Whatever game Chip was playing, it was weak and pathetic and he was going to take full advantage of this.

He had to pay attention. This was the goddamn final, game-winning match. He _had_ to focus, but he couldn’t. Instead of chess pieces and game strategies, his focus was on how her pretty pale green eyes were focused on him, and how her slender lips looked so perfect, and those thin legs were just… wonderful. He stared at the board, trying to ground himself. _Chess. Think about chess. You need to win. You have to win. You have to- god, she’s so hot. No! No, chess. Chess. Sex! Shit, I haven’t gotten laid in so long. Gah! No! Think about the game! This is what makes or breaks my career. The game. Chess. Marigold’s got a really nice sweater on. I should tell her thaT AFTER I WIN. Shit, pay attention, pay attention, it’s my turn again, goddamnit! Move a piece. Which piece? Not that one. No. No, no, no… this one! I can still get back on track, I can win th-_

“Checkmate.” Will slid his bishop across the board, his voice tainted with disbelief. _Did I really just win in fourteen moves?_

The room spent a few precious seconds in silence before bursting into a clamor. The arbiter grabbed a microphone. “Mister William Barfee-“

“BarfÉe,” he snapped.

“-is the winner! Presentation of the the official champion titling will occur in one hour’s time.”

Oh, fuck, Chip’s life was over. Either he stood up to shake hands and present his boner to the world, or he booked it to the bathroom and doomed himself as the biggest sore loser ever. _What would Olive want me to do? Well, what would a responsible adult do? Not get an erection in public in the first place, duh. Okay, where are the cameras at?_ He glanced around. Every camera was facing them from the left, so if he angled himself just enough right, he could shake hands and not look like an idiot on live tv. Chip stood cautiously and grabbed Will’s hand. “Good game,” he grunted. He managed to jerk Will over to the left to keep his erection out of sight.

Will’s eyes narrowed. “What the hell are you doing?” He hissed as he pulled Chip back.

He shifted his body away from the cameras again and retracted his hand. “Don’t ask questions.” God, this was embarrassing. What was he, fifteen again? But he really needed to go take care of this because this sucker was not going to disappear on its own.

“What?” Will watched him rush off. What was going on? Why was Tolentino running off all of a sudden? He didn’t seem upset, just urgent.

Olive brought him back to reality. “Hey,” she said, smiling sweetly. “I’m proud of you.” Then she leaned up and kissed him. She might have momentarily forgotten that they were on national television. But even when she remembered and tried to pull away, Will held her close. When they parted, he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“The world knows,” he whispered, “and I don’t care.”

————

Chip left the bathroom praying that he media wasn’t waiting to mock him. In a sense, it was, except the media was a female reporter with an amused smile.

“Can’t wait for home, huh?” She asked playfully.

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I get it. I lost the chess match over an erection.”

Marigold stepped closer. “Aw, don’t get mad about it. I mean, it’s your career taking a hit, but think of it this way.” She gently grabbed him by the tie and tugged him closer. “We’ve got fifty minutes until that ceremony. Why don’t we find a place to go and cheer you up, huh?”

That made a lot of anger disappear right then. “I like the sound of that,” he said. “Think I spotted a broom closet a few doors down.”

She pulled him in for a quick kiss. “Classy,” she whispered.

“What can I say?” He said. “I mean, it’s no bedroom, but desperate times…”

“Oh? And what makes this a desperate time?” She teased.

He settled his hands on her hips. “Well, I guess you can see I’m terribly upset about losing my title. I’m in desperate need of cheering up.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” She glanced around the corner to check for any witnesses, then pulled him down the hall.


	8. Do I Love Her?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that the game is over, people plan to return home. Chip and Marigold continue to break their self-imposed rule, Leaf, Marcy, and Logainne are lonely, and Will and Olive try to figure out how much they love each other.

[hot reporter lady] hey  
[CHIP] hey ;)  
[hot reporter lady] wow someone’s eager  
[CHIP] what? I had fun  
[CHIP] any chance of ignoring that wait-til-America thing? since we already ignored it for the broom closet?  
[hot reporter lady] hmmmmmmmmmm  
[hot reporter lady] yes. I’ll lie to my brother and come over  
[hot reporter lady] actually I don’t even have to lie to him. you have condoms, right?  
[CHIP] of course  
[CHIP] wait you told your brother?  
[hot reporter lady] well I haven’t told him anything yet, but we’re twins. I tell him everything.   
[hot reporter lady] so are you going to tell me where I’m going to meet you?  
[CHIP] hotel de re, room 214  
[CHIP] it’ll be propped open for you ;)

————

“I’m going,” Marigold said as she grabbed her coat.

Leaf looked away from the television. “Where you going?”

“Chip invited me over. I’ll be back tomorrow morning to pack, don’t worry.”

He spent a second processing that. “You’re going to- oh! Oh. Okay. I thought you guys were waiting until we got home to start… all that.”

“Nah.” She glanced at him. “You know when I left for the bathroom and I was gone for like half an hour?”

“I thought you got lost. That’s what happened to me.”

Marigold shook her head. “No, I wasn’t lost. I caught Chip coming out of the bathroom and we ended up in a closet.”

“Mari!” Leaf covered his ears and hunched over on the couch. “Gross!”

She walked back over to him and leaned over the back of the couch. “You’re twenty six. Grow up and get over it. You wouldn’t be so grossed out if you had gotten further than holding hands with a guy before.”

“I don’t need to hear about you having sex in a closet! I don’t think anyone wants to hear about that.”

She patted his head. “Well, I’m leaving now. Don’t stay up too late.”

He shrunk away from her hand. “Stop acting like mom. I know when I’m tired.”

“Fine.” Marigold turned and left the hotel room, leaving Leaf curled up on the couch. He finally landed on a news channel that was in English.

Onscreen was Barfée. Oh. It was the interview after the ceremony. Leaf propped his head up with a pillow. He had seen it in real life, but he had missed half of it because of his inability to focus. At least this time there were captions to help him follow along.

_“William, was your win impacted by Miss Ostrovsky’s presence?” a reporter asked._

_He scrunched his nose up. “Impacted? Impacted how? I don’t play for an audience, I play to win.”_

_“Considering her past with your opponent, is it possible-“_

_“Her past,” he said, “was as his coach and manager. Nothing more. If he let emotions cost him the match, that’s not my concern.” William seemed rather uninterested with the interview and began to walk away._

_The reporter tried again. “What about your relationship with Miss Ostrovsky? Will you be parting ways now that the competition is over?”_

_“What we plan on doing is no one’s concern but ours,” William said, slightly enraged. “But I don’t care for the assumption that this is any sort of temporary fling. Leave those assumptions for Tolentino.” With that, he walked away. The camera’s last shot was of Olive meeting him at the exit. Then it cut away to whatever other news the station had._

How romantic was this? Sure, his sister had gotten Chip’s attention, but that was nothing compared to Barfée and Chip’s ex-manager. A whirlwind romance for sure. Ever since the rumored kiss at the restaurant, Leaf had kept an ear out for any news he could get. Every part of it was the perfect love story. Then they had kissed in front of everyone, which had blown him away. Sure, everyone had their suspicions, but no one had any evidence of it besides eyewitness accounts. No photos or videos. But there was no denial now of it.

“They’re so cute together,” he mumbled to himself. “Why can’t I have a love story like that?”

It was true. They were the perfect pair, in Leaf’s eyes. William’s awkwardness and proneness to getting riled up worked perfectly with Olive’s sweet nature and kindness.

Leaf remembered well the way the match in Baguio City had gone. Barfée and Chip spent the whole week snapping at each other, back and forth, in press conference after press conference after press conference. Then things had escalated to the actual fight. There had been so much aggression and anger and hatred between the two.

This year, though, things had been relatively smoother. Relatively. The gay crisis and the board flipping weren’t exactly calm moments, but something (or someone) had changed in those two years, and it definitely wasn’t Chip.

William had gotten nicer. Or at least, he tolerated more shit than he used to. Maybe he had thicker skin than he used to. Personal insults did nothing this year!

His train of thought was quickly halted by the next news story.

_“Is Charlito Tolentino seeing someone?” The woman on the screen asked rhetorically. “Rumors are flying after stadium cameras reveal him entering and leaving a broom closet with an unidentified woman. Well,” she said with a chuckle, “it looks as if Charlito Tolentino has been revealed to be straight. I think the question on everyone’s mind is: who’s the lucky girl?”_

Leaf snickered. “Mari’s gonna get a kick outta this.”

————

Marcy took a long drink from her water bottle before knocking on the door of room 106.

“Just a second,” an all-too-familiar voice called out. Marcy waited patiently until the door opened. Logainne let out a soft, “Oh,” before opening the door further. “Miss Park, I wasn’t expecting you!”

“You, of all people, can call me Marcy,” she said, taking a step into the room.

Logainne took a step back and shut the door behind her. “Marcy, I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to visits. People might think-“

“The game’s over. People shouldn’t care about it anymore, and you’re paranoid.”

“Nice to see you too,” Logainne said. “You’re so kind.”

Marcy took a seat on the couch. “I’m honest. And I honestly need to be somewhere where the lovebirds aren’t.”

“They’re not-“

“No, they aren’t doing that,” she said calmly. “But I’m sick of this stench of romance and of all the trouble it’s brought to this game.”

Logainne cleared her throat. “Well, speaking as an arbiter and a human being, I see no issues with Miss Ostrovsky. She’s a perfectly nice woman, and she’s no source of trouble. Any trouble at this year’s competition can be placed squarely on Chip’s shoulders.”

Marcy sighed and leaned back. “She’s too nice. She apologizes for every little thing and she’s making me a goddamn scarf.” She took another drink from her water bottle.

Logainne frowned. “I don’t like being around alcohol. You know that.”

“You didn’t say anything for a full week, Schwartz. You’re not allowed to lecture now.” She took a long, exaggerated drink out of spite.

“I could’ve gotten you disqualified for drinking in a competition setting, you know.”

“But you didn’t,” she said, “so I’m going to keep drinking outside of it, too.”

Everything was beginning to hurt. Marcy resented herself for this. She didn’t want to be snarky and short-tempered, especially with Logainne. But after watching romance bubble and bloom around her, she couldn’t help lashing out. It hurt, watching everyone fall in love and start relationships. She was stuck as a witness to her failures to act on her feelings.

Marcy sighed softly and set her bottle aside. “Sorry. It’s the stress talking. I’ll stop.”

“I get it,” Logainne said softly. “Let’s just watch tv and forget all about this stupid game.”

————

Chip woke up first the next morning. He rolled over and curled up against Marigold. “G’morning,” he whispered against her neck.

She stirred. “You wake up early,” she said.

He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Well, I’ve got someone worth waking up for.”

They laid there in silence for a few minutes, relishing the warmth and comfort. Marigold finally sat up. “I should get going,” she said, combing her hair out of her eyes. “I have to get back and pack so I can fly home.”

“Are you sure you can’t stay a bit longer?” He asked, sitting up next to her. His arm found its place around her waist. “Surely you’ve got a bit more time to kill.”

With a small laugh, she curled up against him. “I might be able to pencil something in.”

————

Olive was about to hang the phone up when the other line picked up.

“Hello?”

She practically melted. “Hi, Will. It’s Olive.”

“Hello.” There was an awkward pause. “Are you flying back to America soon?”

“Well, yes, but… plans can change.”

“What does that mean?”

Oh boy. Here goes. “I don’t have a job or a family to return to, so I was… wondering if I could spend a week or so with you? In Germany?”

She heard the relief flooding his voice. “Of course, Olive. That would be wonderful.”

“I’ll try and change my tickets, then. Oh, I can’t wait to see you!”

He laughed. “We went out for dinner just yesterday. But,” he said, voice dropping to a whisper, “I miss you as well. Call me to let me know what your plan is.”

“I will.” Before she could stop herself, she said, “I love you. Goodbye.” Then she realized what she said and immediately hung the phone up, embarrassed.

…

_”I love you.”_

The only sound William could hear was the thud of his heartbeat echoing in the silent receiver. She _loved_ him. Was he still conscious? Had she actually said that?

The woman he had been infatuated with for the last week (the last two years, if he was entirely honest) had just said _I love you_. How was he supposed to react? Should he call her back, or wait and say it to her in person, or curl up and die?

That last option began to look pretty good. He wasn’t an emotional person. He struggled with it. All of these things he was supposed to know weren’t intuitive, and it was too hard to constantly look out for those tips and hints. So he settled on his emotionless facade to avoid wearing himself down on a daily basis.

But then… there was Olive. Olive was sweet and open and so easy to read that even he understood her feelings. And she liked him. Even though he was awkward, and rude, and way too sweaty, she still thought he was smart and handsome and… loveable.

His chess win dulled in comparison to earning her love. Nothing in the world could make him happier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I’m splitting this into a series. I think it’s easier to read, and since the location and time change exists it makes more sense. However, I might take a small break to work on the college fic and maybe finally finish up that truth or dare fic. Who knows? Definitely not me.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed part one of the chess au! The happiness here definitely won’t last for too long.


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